By the way, I'm going to be holding a launch party on Facebook Monday, Jan 30, 8-11 p.m. EST. I'll be giving away a Kindle Fire, Amazon gift certificates, and books by some dear friends. Please drop by to win!

Kurt Briggs has a spirit link to a tiger Familiar that gives him superhuman abilities, but when his father is murdered, the military veteran becomes a target for terrorist sorcerers. Alone, Kurt finds he's no match for the witch and her shape-shifting polar bear. He turns to Arcanist Genevieve Reyes for help in fighting the killers' spells.

As Genevieve and Kurt hunt the terrorists, shared danger leads to shared desire. But they soon realize Kurt's passion for Gen weakens his control over his cat. The consequences could be deadly for them both. Genevieve is attracted to Kurt's animal sensuality, but she knows she may be in as much danger from his tiger as she is from the terrorists.

Then they learn the terrorists plan to sacrifice Kurt to power a horrific spell designed to decimate the U.S. government. Even if Kurt and Gen manage to stop the terrorists, their evil sorcery may trigger a witch hunt that could mean the destruction of everyone with magical Talent -- including Kurt and Genevieve.

Becoming one with a big cat did not automatically make you
crazy. After all, Fred had been melded with his lion for twenty years since the
animal’s death, but there was no indication he’d had any problems with
self-control. Given what an extremely public person he’d been, there would have
been rumors if he’d ever lost it.

But Kurt’s meld was too fresh, leaving him vulnerable to his
tiger’s instincts. If she followed up on this attraction, he could easily
become even more dangerously possessive -- as male cats tended to be.
Considering he’d already come close to attacking both Sawyer and Jake…

“No! Goddamn you, you bastard!” Feet thudded to the floor,
accompanied by a snarl that had not come from a human throat.

Genevieve froze, staring at the wall opposite the bed, her
heart thundering.

The bear. Had the bear assassin broken in and
attacked Kurt? For a long moment, she heard nothing more than her own ragged
panting.

“You fucking idiot,” Kurt’s voice growled.

She strained her ears, but seconds ticked by in ringing
silence.

Her shoulders slumped in relief and she settled back against
the headboard, swinging her legs up. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d
had bad dreams. Though his would probably have been even worse. At least hers
hadn’t featured her father’s murder.

A door opened and closed in the hallway, and the floor
creaked as he walked past her door and started down the stairs.

I need to go back to bed.

But what she really wanted was to follow him down the
stairs. Dumbass. Didn’t we just go through that? Getting involved with
the magical were-tiger is not a good idea.

But there’d been such defeated pain in that “You fucking
idiot.”

“He’s not the only one,” she growled, and rolled out of bed.
She’d worn her turquoise top to bed, so she put on her shorts and padded
barefoot out into the hall.

Gen was midway down the stairs when Kurt looked out at her
from one of the downstairs rooms. “Sorry I woke you. Everything’s fine. You can
go back to bed.”

But everything wasn’t fine. He looked haggard, his handsome
face drawn under disheveled dark hair that looked as if he’d been raking his
fingers through it. He was shirtless, his glorious chest bare.

She tried to ignore the view. “Actually, I was already
awake. Had a nightmare.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around. You want
something to drink? Dad’s bourbon is really…” He broke off. His expression
twisted before going controlled again. “… good.”

“Sure.” As she followed him into the parlor, she thought, I
am such a moron.

If the house was Victorian, its decor was not. An oxblood
leather sectional couch faced a flat screen television on an entertainment
center. On shelves beneath that sat a satellite box and a video game console
with a pair of controllers. At the opposite end of the room, a gas fireplace
had replaced one that had obviously once burned wood.

But it was the walls that caught her attention. They were
covered in photos of lions, tigers, jaguars, pumas, leopards, lynxes -- all
kinds of cats, including species she didn’t even know the names for.

Compelled, Genevieve walked over to the nearest of them, a
lion with bright Feral gold eyes. Judging by the skillful composition and
quality of the print, it was obviously professional work. “These must have set
Fred back some serious cash.”

“Actually, no. Dad was an amateur photographer. Did photos
of every cat BFS ever housed. There’ve been a lot of them over the past twenty
years.” He moved closer. “That’s Lahr, Dad’s lion. He’s the one you see in the
BFS logo.”

She looked around at him. “Lahr?”

“As in Bert Lahr, the actor that played the Cowardly Lion in
the Wizard of Oz.” He grinned. “Which was something of a joke. Lahr
loved a good fight. He had a roar that could vibrate the paint off a wall.”

“Sounds intimidating.”

“Yeah, but deep down, he was a softy. Especially with me.
He’s the reason I was so determined to join the Corps and get my own cat. I
loved him.” His smile faded. “Mom, not so much.”

“Your mom didn’t like him?”

“Mom hated him. I think she was actually glad when he died
-- testicular cancer. It wrecked Dad and me. I was ten.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her gaze drifted back to the lion’s hypnotic
gaze. There was more than an animal’s intelligence in that intense stare. “Your
father had real talent.”

“He loved his subjects. That always helps.” Kurt moved over
to a walnut bar that ran beside the television and poured himself a glass of
something amber from a cut-glass decanter. “Want any? Aged Kentucky bourbon.
Dad loves… loved the stuff.”

“Sure.” Maybe it would help her get back to sleep.

As he filled a second glass, she asked, “Where’s Dave?”

“Took the first watch. He’s probably skulking in the bushes
outside the house.”

“Is that safe? I mean, between witches and polar bears…”

His mouth pulled into a flat line as he handed her the
glass. “We fought a war, Gen. We know how not to be seen.” He nodded toward the
sectional, and she followed him over to it to sit down. “What did you dream
about?”

Genevieve froze. And knew by the heat in her cheeks that she
was blushing.

Kurt blinked and looked startled. His nostrils flared.
Almost like an animal scenting…

He looked quickly away, downing a deep swallow of his
bourbon.

I need to get my ass back to bed. Instead she took a
sip of the bourbon. Liquid fire detonated in her mouth, smoky and dark. It
burned all the way down. She coughed, acutely aware of him, sitting
bare-chested and handsome in the light of the single lamp he’d turned on.

God, that chest. I’d love to paint him.

It wasn’t the first time tonight she’d had that thought. But
then she hadn’t known what a bad idea it was.

He almost lost it twice tonight. Only an idiot would go
for three. She forced herself to look away. But a moment later her gaze
drifted back to dwell on the ridged muscle of Kurt’s flat abdomen and broad
chest. His biceps flexed as he lifted his glass for another sip. Heat rolled
through her, and she swallowed. Bad idea.